Discovery
by NaomiJameston
Summary: A girl finds a new planet, Vegita. This will eventually be a DBZ crossover, but at the moment, it's just a original fiction piece.


This was a story I turned in for a creative writing class. It's my first original character story, so I'd love advice and suggestions. I know it's short and it cuts off before anything really happens, and that's where I need the most help. I don't know what to do with it. If I continue it (send her off where she wants to go), it'll end up being a fanfic-ish story. Not sure I want to take that route yet... What do you all think?

Naomi

Disclaimer: I actually do own these characters! Woah... never said that one before...

Discovery

A girl sat at her desk at NASA headquarters at Cape Canaveral, her huge headphones covering her ears, even though she knew everything that was being said around her. It was always the same, dull scientists talking about the same, dull scientific things. The newest discoveries, the newest scientists fresh out of school, the newest innovations made in technology that most people wouldn't be able to see for several more years... Always the same. Nothing new, ever. She sighed, but it was more a sigh of boredom than any real sadness.

She shifted in her seat, finding the cloth under her harsh and rather uncomfortable; she would have _adored_ a new seat, maybe with some actual cushions, but she was still new, so there was no way to ask. Her boss didn't trust her as it was. For some reason he seemed utterly convinced that she had slept her way to a diploma, which wasn't true, but that didn't matter. She sighed again, shifted, and readjusted the headphones on her ears, cursing their bulkiness. Why, oh WHY did she have to have a gift for radio astronomy? It was possibly the most boring branch of astronomy she could have chosen for herself. Unfortunately, it also happened to be her specialty.

"Hey, Naomi, whatcha doin'?" the woman's boss asked. She turned in her chair and looked at him. With his being over six feet tall, it wasn't an easy task.

"Nothing, Mr. Calvers." He gave her a skeptical look, and she hastened to correct herself. "Just listening."

"To what, I wonder?" Before she could move, the man snatched the coverings off her ears and plopped them on his own. When he could hear nothing, absolutely nothing, he relaxed.

"How can you stand that?" he asked, giving them back to her. She shrugged, but didn't answer. "Well, keep up the good work, Naomi."

"That's not my name," she muttered under her breath. Even though it was _technically_ her name, her birth certificate and her parents confirmed it, she had tried unsuccessfully for most of her adult life to change it, if only just with her friends.

She smiled as her possible names floated through her head. Celeste, Ally, Satine, Aelgifu... No, she thought. That would never do. Too many people would be saying Ugly-foo when they saw her. Perhaps a combination of names, something simple and easy to remember, but still pretty enough to make an impression? Naomimara? Yes, that would be a very good name, and only a few would have trouble adjusting to it. Most would probably still call her Naomi, but that was all right. She was beyond used to it by now.

This line of thought continued for some time within her brain, but soon enough, it returned to the headphones on her head, the vastness of space, and the fact that she was LISTENING to it, instead of actually _being_ up there with the astronauts. That had been her childhood dream, but her parents hadn't had the money, nor the inclination, to put her through the training programs at headquarters (they wanted their 'baby' to stay with her feet planted firmly on the ground), so this was as close as she was likely ever going to get. At least she got to see most of the rocket liftoffs. That much was worth it.

A slow buzzing started in her ear, like an annoying gnat had been caught in them. She pulled the headphones off, and shook them, then replaced them on her head. The buzzing was still there, if a little more persistent.

It was then that she realized what she was hearing. She increased the volume a little, trying to remember her training, which suddenly seemed to have left her brain. The buzz became a hum as the volume increased, a flow and ebb of static. To other people, it would have just been a slight disturbance in the signal, but to a trained radio astronomer, it was a sign. It was a sign that they had proven life on other planets. Intelligent life, more than that.

Ok, she thought to herself. Ok, calm down and attempt to think logically. Logic, logic... Um, there are aliens? Yes, there are aliens, and they have contacted us. Now, get up, grab your boss and force him to listen. Then focus the computer systems on this exact spot.

Naomi stood up slowly, not daring to think anymore. If she waited too long, she might lose the signal, and everyone would call her a liar; but if she moved too quickly, she could jostle the desk, and lose the signal, and she would still be a liar.

She slowly disentangled herself from the wires and backed away from her unassuming desk. Then she ran for her boss' office.

"I swear, sir, I'm not lying," she was whispering to him as he listened at her desk a few moments later. She prayed with all her might (though she didn't know which gods she was praying to) that he would hear what she had heard. It didn't matter if he understood what it meant, as long as he could confirm that he heard it, too.

There were other scientists there, some radio wave listeners like herself, but most of them were just the curious, boring kind. The ones who would probably make claim to her discovery, if it were true. There was only one man there she felt she could trust: her brother. He was right behind her and she leaned back a little so that she could barely feel the heat of his skin on hers. It was comforting to know that he was there and would stand by her, even if she was considered a liar and a failure.

"Naomi," her boss started, standing up and replacing her headphones on their stand. She couldn't see his face but still she prayed for good news. Or at the very least that he would at least announce her stupidity gently.

"Yes, sir?"

He looked up and a bright smile filled his large face. "Call the Director."

Later that same day, Naomi found herself facing several men in a single office that felt much too small for her comfort. They faced her with such intense looks on their faces that for a few moments she was sure that she was at her trial and they were her judges, jury, and executioners. However, according to them, they were only here to confirm her claim as to having received contact from other planets.

Though there was only a very small amount of proof for her claim, Naomi was sure that she had the evidence working for her, even if all she had was her boss' word and hers. She had a recording playing in the background of the static, but that hardly made a difference. She knew very well that plenty of amateur scientists were and had been in her exact situation, but only with a counterfeit copy of their radio speakers. She had no idea what happened to those people, but she was certain that she didn't want to know and she had no intention of finding out first hand.

"Now then, Naomi. You claim this... static... this buzzing proves intelligent life on other planets?" the eldest man there asked. Naomi had only known him for a few minutes, but she already hated him. He had a balding head that he had tried to cover up with a badly made toupee. His nose was almost completely lost in the folds of skin gathered under his eyes (and everywhere else) and every breath he took seemed to suck all the oxygen from the room and spit it back with putrid force. However, admitting that she felt this way would have been suicide for her and her career, so she wisely kept her thoughts in her brain where they could do no harm.

"Yes, sir," she said. She flipped a switch on a projector, rather old and slightly unstable on its stand, but useful for the moment. Its light came on and over the glass she placed a graph that she had made of the fluctuations within the static.

"You see here, sirs," she pointed at the place where the line hit its peak, "This is where the signal is the strongest. Now, if you compared this graph to the pattern of speech," she placed another graph over it, "the lines will connect."

The Directors' Assistants leaned forward, (they had to get through these men before they could talk to the Director himself) their attentions no longer wandering throughout the room. "So, Naomi, what do you think that means?" the smallest of the men asked her. Naomi had felt an immediate attraction to the man the first time she met him. Not a physical attraction, but that of two compatible people with the same interests and desires. She took a deep breath, glad that he was the one who had asked her that question, since she would not have been able to state her truthful opinion otherwise.

"I think, Mr. Malcolm, that what we see here is not the kind of static made by television or radio waves, but those made of the speech vibrations."

"But how, Ms. Jameston, would such a thing be possible? Our satellites are not powerful enough to find a module of speech, when it is overpowered by the radio and television waves that would be emitting from a planet with intelligent life." The fat man had asked that, but Naomi was not stupid enough to tell the man that "intelligent" life would also probably be trying to contact other planets, such as their own, and that obese men such as him would never have the pleasure of meeting them.

"Mr. Barrethel, you have a good point, and the truth is, I don't know." He and the others flinched at those words, and a victorious smile appeared on the fat man's overblown lips. Naomi gulped and continued. "I have a theory, rather absurd, in my opinion, but that's not the point..." She trailed off, trembling.

"Please, Ms. Jameston, continue," said Mr. Malcolm reassuringly. He smiled just a little and rolled his eyes at the other assistant behind the fat man's back. Naomi relaxed just a touch.

"Well, sir, it is possible that the planet might not have radio or television. It would explain the peculiar lack of wave lengths and how it was so easy for us to pick up their speech patterns." She sat down in her chair, her legs giving way underneath her, and watched the men before her bicker amongst themselves. The two assistants she liked seemed to agree with her, but Mr. Barrethel did not, it seemed. Soon enough, however, to Naomi's immense relief, they came to a conclusion.

"Ms. Jameston," Mr. Malcolm started. Naomi struggled to stand, almost failing, but a hand came out of nowhere and steadied her. Without looking, she knew it to be her boss, who had probably let himself in without anyone noticing. He was good at that.

She gulped. "Yes, sir?" Naomi asked, cursing the slight tremble in it.

Mr. Malcolm smiled. "You will present this information and any other ideas you may come across to the Director on Thursday. Is that satisfactory?"

"Y- yes, sir," Naomi whispered, not trusting her voice anymore.

"Good, then we're agreed." Mr. Malcolm and the other members of the committee stood and walked out of the room, leaving Naomi to her thoughts.

The meeting with the Director had gone well and the several following it with various retainers of the President's. They hadn't met the President, of course, but several of his assistants had held meetings about her find. Of course, Naomi had not been the one to speak. As "just an assistant", she had not been given permission to present her information; Barrethel had instead, looking very smug over his shoulder at her as he did so.

Though he had twisted her information in several directions she wouldn't have dared to tread herself, and had downplayed the importance of this find immensely, President Clidon representatives had still been very interested in exploring further, with permission from the aboves, of course. However, they had placed Barrethel as the head of the team, an action that had Barrethel crowing and the rest of the organization groaning.

Naomi had suffered worst of all at his hands, having been removed from her desk in the rest of the cubicle city, and placed in her own room, out of the way. Unfortunately, this "office" was a former broom closet, rather large for brooms, but too small for her. However, Barrethel had made it very clear that she would not be in the public eye as anything but an assistant or underling of some sort. No one outside her circle of friends at organization with her knew she was the one who had made the discovery, but they weren't talking. Barrethel had also made it known that anyone who helped her or took his steam away for any reason at all would be given the pink slip and shown to the door.

"Shame about all this, isn't it, Nao?"

Startled, Nao gazed guiltily at the man who stood in her door (the only good part of her new "office"), Mr. Malcolm.

"About what, sir?" she asked, tucking away her anger to another part of her brain. Now was not the time to dwell on her horrible new boss, not when she had so much data to go through still because, of course, Barrethel couldn't be bothered to sift through the stuff himself. He had people to do that, and she was one of them.

Mr. Malcolm chuckled deep in his throat, drawing a shy smile from Naomi. "No need to be polite, Ms. Jameston. Everyone knows how you were passed over for the mission to the planet you contacted. But no worries, I'm sure there will be more chances."

Naomi jumped out of her seat. "I was what?" she shrieked, startling Mr. Malcolm. While he blubbered, she slid past him and out of the office, careening down the hallway to Barrethel's office.

Bursting through the door, she screamed, "Why was I not told I wasn't goin to be on the shuttle? Why didn't I know there was even going to be a shuttle? What else aren't you telling me, Barrethel?! It was MY discovery, damnit!"

Barrethel gazed directly at her, his half-lidded eyes and open, bulbous mouth giving the impression that he was an underwater slug. "Gentlemen, I believe you have met Ms. Jameston before?"

Naomi turned, and to her mortification, there were six reporters sitting there, their fingers flashing over the paper, writing everything she had said. A photographer perched behind the reporters popped out of his hiding place and snapped a picture of her wide-eyed and open-jawed in shock.

"Wha-?" she whispered. Barrethel was without mercy.

"This, Ms. Jameston, is an interview in which I was preparing to announce that there will be a shuttle to the planet since NASA has just come out with a new technology that can move us much faster than lightspeed. _You_ will not be accompanying that shuttle because your attitude is poor and your work ethic is sloppy. We need perfection, especially on this first mission. If there is truly intelligent life on the planet, we must show them our best and brightest, of which you are not a member. Good day, Ms. Jameston," he finished, sliding back in his seat and smiling into the camera as it snapped another picture. Naomi turned to leave, but the odious wretch behind the desk called her back. "On your way out, see my secretary. She has something for you."

Confused and curious despite herself, Naomi stopped at the ssecretary's desk as ordered. "Hi, Candace," she said.

Candace smiled sadly. "I'm sorry, Nao, but you shouldn't have done that." And she handed Naomi a little pink slip of paper, signed by Mr. A. Barrethel. Sighing, Naomi closed her eyes for a moment, seeing her dreams of discovering new worlds _and being acknowledged for them_ dying in the dust. Her future now probably involved snotty children whom she had to ask "Would you like fries with that, sir?" There wasn't anything else she was trained for and she didn't have enough money to go back to school.

Ignoring Candance's open arms, ready for a hug, she guessed, Naomi slipped back to her closet to retrieve her belongings and leave.


End file.
